Mint Chocolate Chip
by cokesuicide
Summary: Esme is forced to spend yet another summer at her family's beach house. Not only does she have to deal with Charles, a man her family is pushing her to marry, but Carlisle the good looking waiter who loves to say the wrong thing at the right time.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Twilight or its characters

**Note:** I wrote this for Quail (quail1982 on ) since she loves Esme/Carlisle. No beta was used, so all mistakes are mine. Also, I might work this little one-shot into a longer story at a later date...

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><p><strong>Beginning<strong>

Esme, an eighteen year old girl with dark tan hair, complains about coming to the beach town for the tenth year in a row. Nothing is new; nothing is updated except the paint on the shops littering the boardwalk with novelty t-shirts and summer beach food.

She has to spend time with the Evensons this summer, especially their dark haired son Charles. He likes to be called Chuck when he's with his rowdy friends. Chuck likes to be the center of attention. Charles is calm and considerate.

She can't wait to slip away when he's leering at some girl's behind.

**Noticed**

After happily spending most of the day sitting on the beach reading about the 20s, infidelity, and death, she forcefully attends dinner with her family and the Evensons.

Very little input from her is needed. When a talk about merging families turns the focus to the teenagers, a waiter comes for their order.

It's the first time Esme cares about how a man looks. Blond hair, blue eyes, tall, muscles, tan skin, and the unusual name of Carlisle makes her blush. She turns her head to hide it. He is a far cry from the pale, skinny boy she hates.

**Watermelon**

Sitting on the railing of the boardwalk, Carlisle sees her ignoring a group of teenage boys, deliberately holding her chin up as she rushes by. She comes close enough for him to smell the slight watermelon scent of her hair. The exasperated look on her heart shaped face did nothing to spoil her beauty. He practically forgets how to breathe.

The leader of the group calling after her is unforgettable. He arrogantly sat across from the watermelon scented woman and tried to unsuccessfully impress her. Then he flirted with the hostess when no one was watching.

Carlisle follows after them.

**Save**

Esme turns down an alley, a shortcut to Beach Street and home, the noonday sun only hitting the center between the two buildings.

Charles quietly saunters up behind. She doesn't know what hits her until the building does. His hands dig into her arms.

"Let go," she says, squirming unsuccessfully.

He smirks. "I only want a taste."

"She said," a third, angry, voice says, "let go."

Charles falls, hitting the wood beneath him with a grunt. She steps over him – being careful to accidentally hit him – and whips around. "I didn't need," her expressive brown eyes bore into his, "saving."

**Recognition**

Despite himself, Carlisle smiles and says with a shrug, "Sorry. It looked like you needed it."

Esme realizes who this man is and immediately takes back all thoughts about him since the dinner two nights ago, including the inappropriate dream she had last night. In her eyes, there is no easier way to lose hotness points than cockiness. "Then you need your eyes checked."

With that, she turns around and stomps off the boardwalk onto the street.

Carlisle can't wipe the smile off his lips as he watches her go.

Charles groans and pulls himself onto his hands and knees.

**Peace**

Walking on the beach, Carlisle spots Esme below a blue and white striped umbrella. She's staring at the sea with a book in her hand. He's here with a peace offering in the form of a mint chocolate chip ice cream cone. A full week of work has kept him from doing this sooner.

When Esme sees Carlisle and the mint green blob he's holding, she sighs. "I don't want it."

"I'm sorry. For getting in your way."

"Oh." Trying to keep her composure indifferent but failing, she adds, "I accept, but only because mint chocolate chip is my favorite."

**Question**

"Play mini golf with me?"

Esme tilts her head. "Mini golf?"

"Yeah, it's a secret love of mine."

"I thought your secret love was beach volleyball."

"That's my shout it from the rooftop with no shirt on love."

Carlisle's eyebrows bounce up and down. "So…?"

Esme shrugs and breezes past him. "Fine. It'll give me something to do."

"Meet you here at four," Carlisle calls after her, happy that after a week of asking her out, he finally wore her down.

She waves him off, a smile playing on her lips despite knowing how negatively this decision will affect her.

**First**

"Thought you were good at this," Esme says after another hole in one.

"You're distracting me."

"How?"

"Look at what you're wearing." Carlisle points at Esme's knee length white dress blowing in the breeze.

"It's not my fault you stopped thinking with your brain and started thinking with your—"

"I can assure you I have not once thought about you that way."

"So this is just friends hanging out?" Esme asks, the putter swinging in front of her.

"Y—" He sees her take a deep breath.

"I see." She stomps over and slams the putter into his chest.

**Love**

It takes Esme almost a week to talk to him again. Before then, he tried groveling with ice cream; she threw it in his face. He bought her a flower; she chucked it in the sea. It's only when he backs off that she comes to him.

Esme carefully explains her situation. The other family, the man she's supposed to marry, how much fun she's had with Carlisle – until mini golf – and how it's going to end in three short weeks.

Carlisle pulls her close. Reality dictates he'll have to give her back, but, in this moment, she's all his.

**End**

She leaves in August with her address and phone number in his hands and a lingering kiss on his cheek.

He waits one paycheck to pack a bag and follow.

Esme finds him leaning against the blue mailbox outside her English Lit class. She brushes him off with, "So you think you can just show up and expect me to jump into your arms like some horrible John Hughes knock off?"

He answers with, "Of course," and a kiss.

Fifty years and three kids, and he still buys her mint chocolate chip ice cream cones when he's in the wrong.


End file.
